


Fraternizing with the Enemy

by starksborn



Series: Quicksand [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scummy AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksborn/pseuds/starksborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A What If? situation. What if my Boss hated themself more than they hated Killbane, and used him as a means of their own self destructive behavior?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fraternizing with the Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> There's no excuse for this other than I wanted to write some porn about the Boss and Killbane. I don't ship it in my main verse, so this is just a non-canon side thing. I've been /lovingly/ referring to it as the 'Scummy AU' and gave it a tag if I ever decide I'm in a big, green smut writing mood in the future. 
> 
> I mean, I'm sure no one in this fandom was browsing Ao3 and thought "you know what we need, we need more porn about Killbane" but if that one person is out there, I got u buddy. I fuckin' got u.

     If there is one good thing that could be said for Steelport, it was the never ending number of places to get drunk. The Boss can appreciate a city that can appreciate the people's need to get absolutely wasted. The Saints cribs were never without ample amounts of booze, but lately getting drunk at home seemed to be more depressing than fun. If Shaundi and the Boss weren't butting heads about Johnny, the Boss was spending too much time _thinking_ about Johnny, and getting sad and drunk thinking about your dead boyfriend isn't anyone's definition of a good time. 

     Instead, the Boss has started taking their drinking elsewhere and acquainting themself with Steelport's nightlife. At least, the nightlife that doesn't involve drive by shootings and fist fights. They've discovered quite an interesting underbelly to the city, and they're surprised to find that the Saints have a lot more supporters around than at first glance. They've even met a couple people that were Stilwater natives, and still remember what the Saints were like back in the early days of the gang. 

     They would never admit it, but it does them some good to get out and experience the city without a trail of people or handlers behind them. To explore the streets as someone _from_ the streets, and not as a celebrity that's making a pit stop. Maybe Johnny was right, maybe they have been spending too much time focusing on the corportate aspect of things. 

_I never have listened to him when I should_ , they muse, staring into their drink and tapping their fingers against the side of the glass. They watch the way the overhead lights of the bar reflect in the vodka and swirl the glass a little. Maybe it's the buzz they're working on, but the colors that dance around inside their hand is mesmerizing, and they don't even notice the way they'ved zoned out watching it. It creates a sense of calm in them, and for now they're content to just enjoy it. 

     They stop the swirling to take a sip, leaning back on the stool and letting the liquid roll around in their mouth for a moment. This is nice, they think as they close their eyes. Good booze, a good atmosphere in this bar and a good buzz settling into their system. It's been a while since they've felt this at peace, and for a second they even let themself think that maybe they even deserve it. They _deserve_ to feel calm and relaxed, they _deserve_ some down time and to be at peace with themself. After all they do in the name of the Saints, they should be able to enjoy this one moment of time. 

     The reverie is interrupted by the sound of a deep chuckle coming from behind them, and someone leaning on the bar entirely too close next to them, and that's when the Boss remembers that no; they don't in fact get to enjoy anything. They open their eyes again and recognize colors before anything else- black and green with just a small amount of red. A massive shadow falling over them, and gold rings shining in the lights.

      _Killbane_.

     "Well, well," he says. "Fancy meeting you here." The Boss drops their glass back down to the bar top with an audible clack.

     "Local gang leader goes out in public," they say. "Masses confused and intrigued." Killbane snorts a little, turning his attention to the bartender. 

     "Get me a scotch, and another one of whatever my _friend_ is having," he says. The emphasis he puts on the word friend makes the Boss's lip curl. They consider turning it down, or even throwing it in his face, but knowing Killbane's hair trigger temper that could easily start a brawl. The Boss just isn't in the mood to go toe-to-toe with him tonight, and regardless flinging a drink in his face would surely end up with more bad publicity for the Saints. They can already imagine Killbane hamming it up about how he was just trying to be pleasant and got viciously accosted for no reason.

     The bartender sets the drinks down and the Boss gives a moments pause before picking up the fresh one. Hell, if nothing else it's just plain _stupid_ to turn away free booze, no matter whose footing the bill for it. 

     "If you're trying to butter me up with alcohol you're gonna have to buy a lot more than this," they say. Killbane smirks a little, raising his own glass and taking a long swallow of scotch. 

     "I'll keep that in mind," he says. 

     "So," the Boss says, leaning forward on the bar and turning their head in his direction. "Are you stalking me or is this purely coicindence?"

     "Coincidence, I assure you," he says. Killbane gives a flippant wave of his hand, dismissing the idea that he's here intentionally. "Unlike _some_ people, I have better things to do than needlessly harass someone I dislike." The Boss lets out a sharp laugh in response.

     "Yeah, and I'm gonna fuck Burt Reynolds later." Killbane frowns at them and the Boss just raises their eyebrows over the rim of their sunglasses. "Come on, man, we've been at each other's throats since I stepped foot in this city. You know it and I know it, we can at least pretend to be adults about it." 

     He seems to consider it for a moment, and then simply shrugs.

     "Nature of our business, I suppose," he says. The Boss nods a little.

     "Pretty much," they agree. "So out of curiosity are we supposed to be fighting each other right now? Because I gotta be honest I'm really not in the mood to duke it out with you or the Luchadores tonight." 

     Killbane's silent at first, and then he just grunts a little, leaning more heavily against the bar and rubbing at the back of his neck.

     "Nnah," he says. "I'm only here for a press meeting about Murderbrawl. Every damn year I forget how much bureaucracy takes place behind the scenes of this thing." He takes another sip of his drink, draining the last of it. "I'm actually not in any mood for a fight either, believe it or not."

     "Well I think hell just froze over," the Boss says. "Incredible." 

     The two lapse into silence for a moment and the Boss finishes off the last of their drink while Killbane spins his empty glass on the bar top, glancing up occasionally at the TV hanging in the corner. The nightly news is giving a run down of the day's events in Steelport, throwing up a blurb about preparations for Murderbrawl, and another one about the Saints. The Boss ignores it and wags their empty glass at Killbane, catching his attention from the TV.

     "You uh, gonna keep supplying the booze here, buddy?" they ask, smirking a little. "Because I might be able to find it in my heart to carry out a temporary truce." 

     Killbane quirks an eyebrow at them, his mask wrinkling a little with the motion and the Boss gets the impression he's genuinely surprised at their brazenness. He slides his empty glass back towards the bartender and motions for another round of drinks to be made. 

     "You Saints so poor you gotta come begging to me for booze now?" he asks.

     "Hey who's begging?" the Boss scoffs. "You started offering, and I wanted to know how far that offer extended."

     The next round of drinks gets dropped in front of them and the Boss wastes no time in diving into theirs. Somewhere in the back of their mind there's a voice warning against this; against drinking with the enemy, against casually chatting him up at near midnight in a bar. If they'd had a few less drinks in them when Killbane showed up in the first place they might have listened, but as it stands now, they're too focused on the increasing fuzziness flooding their system to care about making responsible life decisions. 

     So they accept the free alcohol and even accept the idle conversation being made. It's almost a tad awkward at first, and the Boss can tell Killbane wasn't exactly expecting an encounter between the two of them to go off with so little violence. He keeps switching between being relaxed and then guarding himself again as if he's waiting on a fight to break out, and the Boss can't blame him. They're half expecting him to have a mood swing and start trying to hit them with a folding chair at any minute. 

     At some point, they both get enough alcohol into their systems that they seem to relax indefinitely and even start cracking jokes. The Boss tells a story about some Saints hijinks they got into with Johnny once, and the bartender is eyeing the pair of them in disbelief that these two rival gang leaders are sitting next to each other and carrying on like they haven't been trying to murder each other all week.

     "...and so Johnny looks at me and he goes, 'what the fuck do you mean you don't know how to drive a stick?!' and I'm like, 'what's the big deal about it dude, you drive', and he fucking goes, 'I don't know how to drive a stick either you fucking asshole!' and meanwhile there's like half a dozen cop cars cresting this hill behind us and I literally can't believe we managed to get ourselves into this situation!" The Boss is leaning back on their stool, nearly in tears from laughing while recounting the story, and Killbane's attempting to cover up his own amusement by taking a sip of his drink.

     "So we fucking spend the night in lockup because neither one of us wants to call the rest of the Saints and be like, 'hey uh we're in jail because neither one of us ever learned how to drive a fucking stick shift.'" They let out an amused sigh, reaching down and taking a swallow of their drink. Killbane shakes his head a little, looking over at them.

     "And here I thought the Saints were _professionals_ ," he says lightly.

     "Ha!" the Boss grins a little. "Not always. For a long time we were just a bunch of punk kids playing with guns." 

     Killbane straightens up then and orders another round of drinks for them both. The bartender slides them over silently, and Killbane gestures out to the rest of the club.

     "Come on," he says, picking up the glasses. "It's been a long day for me, I could use a change of venue."

     The Boss frowns and hesitates for a moment. Sitting and chatting is one thing, but following Killbane around the club seems like it's pushing this encounter into a different category. Despite thinking better of it, they find themself getting off the stool and going after him anyway. He _does_ have their drink in his hand, and they use that as justification for their actions. Besides, so far they've been perfectly pleasant with each other. They're pretty if the two of them were gonna start duking it out, they would have by now. They catch up to him quickly, reaching out and grabbing the drink from him. Their fingers touch for just a second, and the Boss tries to ignore how warm his skin feels. They take a large swallow of the drink, moving to the side to put some space between the two of them. 

     It's not too many more drinks before the club starts turning into one hazy, gloriously warm blur and they stop worrying about how much space is between them and Killbane. At one point they end up with their back to a wall in a dark corner of the building, with his tongue in their mouth and his hand in their pants and all they can think about is how _nice_ his fingers feel inside them. When he pulls away from their lips and breathily suggests going somewhere more private, the Boss pushes aside any warnings about this being a bad situation and follows him without question.

     During the ride from the club to one of his penthouses, the Boss ends up on his lap with his mouth kissing the side of their neck and his hand back between their legs. The smell of his cologne fills the back of the car, sticking to their clothes and their skin and turning into what will be a lingering reminder of their questionable choices. A problem to worry about in the morning, no doubt. 

     Somehow the two of them make it up to his penthouse without attracting much attention, and without either of them drunkenly tripping over something. As soon as the door shuts behind them Killbane guides the Boss in the direction of his couch, backing them up until they fall onto it and he's standingg above them. He reaches down and takes hold of one of their ankles and pulls their boot off, repeating the motion with the other one and leaning down to run a hand up their thigh and to the waistband of their pants. He hooks a finger in it and goes to give it a sharp tug when the Boss realizes what he's doing and slaps his hand away. 

     "Okay no, you're not gonna stand there and rip my clothes off," they say. Killbane shrugs and sits down on the couch, taking the moment to slip out of his shoes as he watches the Boss slide their pants down over their hips and to the floor. They go to get back on the couch and he reaches out and wraps an arm around their waist. He pulls them closer to him and slides his fingers under the band of underwear crossing over their hip and pulls on it, letting the garment fall to the floor and pressing his fingers between their labia. The Boss climbs onto his lap almost obediently, the feeling of him working his fingers around their clit the only prompting they need.

     They tilt their head back a little, hips moving slightly against his hand. His other hand lands on their neck, cupping their face and running his thumb along their jaw and over their lips. He slips one finger into their mouth, grinning when their teeth rake against it. He pulls his finger back out and grips the side of their face again, pulling them to him and kissing them roughly. The Boss leans their hands on him for support, sliding one beneath his open shirt and digging their blunted nails into his chest. 

     He starts kissing along their jawline, running his tongue over their pulse points and grazing his teeth against their skin. He's still teasing their groin, fingers ghosting over their vaginal entrance but never _actually_ entering and the Boss can't help but roll their hips into his hand a little. He's been working them up since before they left the club, and they're not even ashamed to admit they want more from him. Although, if he expects them to start begging, he's going to be in for a disappointment. 

     Even still, they wrap their arms around his neck and attempt to slide closer, relishing in the feel of his body heat seeping through his clothes, and the feel of his skin beneath their palms as they roam down his chest and back under his shirt. Their fingers get hung up on one of the buttons so they start undoing them, opening his shirt up one at a time and utucking it from his pants. Killbane grins again, pausing in leaving kisses around their collarbone to look at them.

     "I'm starting to get the impression you _want_ something," he purrs, his voice deep and low in his chest to the point that the Boss can feel the vibrations from it. They don't respond verbally, instead they just fumble with his belt buckle, attempting to snap it open to better access the zipper on his pants. Killbane moves his hand from between their legs and wraps his arms around them, standing up suddenly. The Boss yelps in surprise and clings to his shoulders.

     "Don't just do that without warning!" they snap. Killbane rolls his eyes at them, carrying them through the living room and back to his bedroom. He tosses them on the bed rather unceremoniously and takes his suit jacket off, abandoning it and his shirt on the floor. The Boss props themself up on their elbows, watching as he pops his belt open and undoes his fly. His pants slide off his hips to join the rest of his clothes on the floor and the Boss isn't at all surprised to find out he apparently goes commando. 

     Killbane wastes no time picking up where he left off, climbing on the bed positioning himself on top of the Boss and settling between their legs. He unzips their shirt the rest of the way and peels them out of it, tossing it to the side of the bed before going back to kissing along their neck. He's being almost aggressive now, digging his teeth in and leaving marks along their skin as he puts a hand between their legs and inserts a finger. The Boss sucks in a breath when he does, leaning their head back into the pillow and letting their legs fall open even wider. Killbane probes around inside them with slow, methodical motions that contrast all the biting he's been doing and gauges the Boss's reactions to his movements. He adds a second finger to the first, and can't help the way his own breath hitches when the Boss lets out a low moan and hooks a leg around his waist. 

     He continues this for a few minutes, just long enough to really get the Boss _hot_ and bothered, and then pulls his fingers back out. They groan disapprovingly and are quickly silenced when Killbane rolls the both of them over, changing positions so he's leaning against the headboard of the bed with the Boss once again in his lap. He puts an arm around them and pulls them close, leaving light kisses along their jawline and bucking his hips against them. He's hard as a rock by now and the Boss indulges him a little, wrapping a hand around him and teasing him. Killbane's eyelids flutter a little, and he tilts his head back when the Boss ghosts their thumb over the tip of him. Their fingers come back slick with pre-cum and they make a show of slipping them into their mouth and making eye contact with him. They slide down his legs and shift how they're sitting so they can lean down over him and run their tongue up in one long, slow arc all the way from his balls and back to his tip. He moans audibly when they take him in their mouth, swirling their tongue around him and sucking lightly, and his hand tangles in their hair and pulls. 

     The Boss apparently hasn't forgotten how much teasing he's been doing to them this whole night, because they remove their mouth from him just when it starts getting _good_ , shaking his hand off their head and smirking at him. 

     "C'mon big guy," they all but purr, "I'm not gonna do all the work for you." Killbane's breath is shallow at this point, and for a moment he doesn't do or say anything. Then he reaches out and gets a hold of their hair, pulling them back to him and leaving more rough kisses along their neck and jaw. The Boss rubs themself against him and he lets out a low growl in response. 

     "Roll over," he breathes. The Boss doesn't even get time to slide off him and he's pushing them out of his lap and shoving them face first into the sheets. He lifts their hips and guides himself between their legs, thrusting inside them in one swift motion and they gasp in response and dig their fingers into the bed covers. 

     Killbane doesn't move for a few seconds, leaning forward and bracing himself against the headboard and giving the Boss time to adjust to his size. He remains stationary for longer than necessary, waiting until they're bucking against him and almost whining before giving them any more pleasure. He starts off slow, sliding in and out with ease and being almost _agonizingly_ tender with them. The Boss lets out content moans every time he enters them just right, and he picks up the pace just ever so slightly. 

     Clearly, he's not done teasing them. 

     They call out his name in between breaths, instructing him to do more. Killbane grins a little, moving one hand to tangle in their hair and pull their head up from the mattress. 

     "I'm _sorry_ ," he pants, "did you say something?" As if to make it worse, he ceases all movement until they answer him. They try not to give into his obvious ploy, hoping he'll give up this annoying game he's playing and get back to work, but he's very content to remain as he is. They can feel him still inside them, hot and swollen and _stretching_ them in all the right ways but that in itself isn't enough. 

     "Fuck me," they say softly. Killbane digs his hand tighter into their hair, pulling their head back as far as he can without hurting them. 

     "I'm afraid I still didn't hear you," he says. They can't even see him but they can _hear_ in his voice how pompous he's being, and under normal circumstances it'd be enough to goad them into a fight. 

     "Fuck me!" they snap.

     "Was that so hard?" He lets go of their hair and rewards them with a hard thrust, and the Boss moans out the word _yes_ in response. He does it again, and again, working up to a good rhythm while the Boss moans and pants beneath him. Pretty soon they even start begging for it without him having to prompt them into it, and he's more than happy to oblige with whatever they ask. His name rolls off their tongue with increasing fervor, and the longer he pounds in and out of them more trouble he has keeping his own voice down. 

     The Boss surprises him by cumming before he does, and the way their muscles clench and contract around him is enough to send him into his own orgasm not long after. His thrusts get rougher and rougher as he rides it out and the Boss moans their appreciation for it as he leaves piping hot cum inside them until it starts dripping out around his cock. When he finally finishes he leans back on his haunches, slipping out of them and sitting for a moment until he catches his breath. He moves out from between their legs and rolls over onto his back, falling roughly onto the mattress next to them. 

     "Shit," he mumbles, shifting a little to get more comfortable, and turning his head to look at the Boss. They've fallen flat to the mattress and appear to be half asleep already. "You staying the night, or should I find your pants?" 

     The only response he gets to his question is an incoherent mumble. Killbane snorts a little and sits up, reaching down to pull the sheets up and over them both before settling back down and closing his eyes. Maybe risking actually _sleeping_ with the Boss and leaving himself unawares and vulnerable is a shittier idea than _fucking_ them, but the combination of the booze and the activities of the night have him too tired to really care.

* * *

 

     

     Killbane wakes up with the sound of his alarm blaring an annoying, high pitched buzzing that definitely serves its purpose. He groans a little, rolling over and bolts upright when he realizes there's someone else in the bed with him. He blinks in the morning light, rubbing at one of his eyes through his mask and frowning. He remembers now, he ran into the Boss at a bar, got blind drunk and brought them home. 

     Not the best string of choices he's ever made. 

     The Boss is fast asleep, still sprawled out on their stomach in the same position they were in last night. The alarm doesn't seem to be bothering them at all, and they don't even so much as flinch when he reaches across them to turn it off. Killbane sighs and gets out of the bed, moving around to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He doesn't see them waking up anytime within the next few minutes, and according to his alarm he's already near being late for a press interview. He goes about his usual routine, exiting the bathroom 45 minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist, and makes his way to his closet. 

     "You fuckin' shower in that mask, too?" the Boss asks. He pauses and looks at them over his shoulder. They've rolled over onto their back, laying on the bed with one hand over their face. 

     "You ever gonna get out of my bed?" he asks. He turns back to the closet, flinging the doors open and stepping inside to pick out a suit. 

     "I've been lying here for ten minutes hoping this was all some drug induced fever dream," they say. "I was trying to convince myself all this green decor was some shitty hotel I ended up in." 

     "I'd be offended if you didn't sound like you were half dead," Killbane calls from inside the closet. He reappears a few minutes later and drapes a jacket over the end of the bed. 

     "What time is it?" the Boss asks. They sit up finally, rubbing at their face and squinting in the light. It's odd to see them in the daytime without their sunglasses, and in what little is left of their makeup. Killbane looks down at his watch.

     "A little after eleven," he says. The Boss swears and flops back down onto the pillow. 

     "I'm like three hours past meeting Angel," they say. "I completely forgot about that last night."

     "I would certainly hope you weren't thinking about _Angel_ while fucking _me_ ," he says. 

     "I don't think I was thinking at all," they say. "Or I wouldn't be here, clearly." Killbane says nothing in response as he finishes getting his tie straight. He pulls his suit jacket on and then glances at his watch again. 

     "You could probably squeeze in a shower before I have to leave, if you wanted," he says. The Boss quirks an eyebrow, propping themself up on their elbows. 

     "What, you're not just gonna kick me to the curb in the nude?" they ask. 

     "If I wasn't concerned about dealing with the press finding out about this, I would be," he answers. "So don't _flatter_ yourself." The Boss says nothing in response, they just shrug and climb out of the bed. He watches them pad into the bathroom and only breaking his gaze when the door shuts. He takes it upon himself to collect their clothes while they're in the shower, retracing the steps from the night before and into the living room to find their entire outfit. 

     He leaves the heap of clothing on the bed and sets their sunglasses on the night stand before retreating to the kitchen. There's a pot of coffee waiting on the counter, and he clicks the machine off while pulling the pot and pours some of it into a thermos. He leans against the counter and checks his phone, sipping from the thermos while going over text messages and emails received during the night and morning. The Boss wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed and with their sunglasses back on their face and looking remarkably more like themself than they did when they woke up. 

     "I'll give you a ride to Angel's gym," Killbane says, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Unless you _want_ to explain to the press why you're sneaking out of my building this morning."

     "What'd you do, call the paparazzi on me?" the Boss quirks an eyebrow and crosses their arms.

     "No," Killbane says somewhat tersely, "but it's getting near Murderbrawl. They tend to camp out down there." 

     "Oh," the Boss says. "That makes sense, but aren't people going to wonder why I'm getting dropped off near Angel's in a Luchadore car?" 

     "Please," he says. "Not every vehicle I own is green."

     The Boss accepts the ride, if only because Killbane has a point about avoiding the media. He rolls them out in a nondescrip black truck, and with the dark tinted windows the press gathered outside his garage don't give the vehicle a second glance. The ride across to Angel's is quiet, and the Boss takes the time to look at their phone. There's 3 missed calls and one long, angry message all from Angel as well various texts and calls from Pierce and the other Saints. They feel a small measure of guilt at that, knowing that Pierce is probably worried since he hasn't heard from them. It's not like them to disappear for near 18 hours over the course of a night and not mention where they're going or what they're doing. 

     Killbane stops a block away from the gym, veering off into a parking space in front of a liquor store. The Boss hops out of the truck and shuts the door, and he immediately rolls the window down, leaning across the seat and grinning at them.

     "Until next time, _Boss_ ," he says. The Boss frowns. 

     "There isn't gonna be a next time," they say, stepping back closer to the open window. "As far as I'm concerned, there wasn't a _this time_. Are we clear on this?" 

     Killbane straightens up in the driver's seat and shrugs, reaching down to hit the window up button. 

     "Whatever you say," he says. The window rolls back up with a motorized whirring noise, leaving the Boss glowering at their own reflection as he drives the vehicle back into traffic. It disappears around the corner just as the Boss's phone starts ringing, and they answer it without looking. 

     "Where the hell are you?" Angel asks. 

     "I'm right up the block, Angel," they say. They glance into traffic and jog across the street, taking a side alley and coming out right behind the gym. "I'm sorry I'm late, I'll be right there." Angel protests their usage of the word _late_ , and begins lecturing them about being places on time and keeping their word. They rolls their eyes as he drones on and on, and hang up on him as soon as they enter the building. He's pissed when they find him and they promise, under threat of another tiger escort, that they'll start taking his training more seriously and endeavor to be on time in the future. 

     The rest of the day manages to be _less_ pleasant than waking up in bed with Killbane, and by the time they make it back to the Saints HQ later that night, they're remembering full well how and why they ended up in a bar sharing drinks with him in the first place. 

     Stress makes people do ridiculous things.


End file.
